


Unavoidable

by Mekina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mekina/pseuds/Mekina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It felt like they'd been heading for this for a while now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unavoidable

"C'mon, Sammy, let's get you in," Dean muttered as he fumbled with the door key. Sam was leaning heavily on him, bruised and battered, and likely with a concussion to boot.

He'd distracted the poltergeist while Dean burnt the bones. The damned thing had thrown Sam into walls and down stairs and in every direction, and now Sam was dizzy and in pain.

"'m fine, Dean," Sam insisted, even as he almost fell over.

"No, Sam. You're not." Dean closed and locked the door behind him.

The house they were squatting in this time wasn't too bad, by the looks of it. He hadn't had a chance to have a look around inside when they first blew in, they'd dumped the things that weren't important and went straight to deal with the ghost.

Now, Dean saw that it was pretty fancy, at least by their usual standards.

"Stay here, Sam," he told his brother, gently helping him onto the mattress. There was only one, but it wasn't a big deal. After years of living in extremely close quarters, a small thing like sharing a bed (or mattress, as it were) didn't phase them.

"I told you I'm okay," Sam protested, but he took the painkillers and bottle of water that Dean handed him.

"Stay here," Dean repeated. "I'm going to check out the rest of the house."

There was nothing of note in the kitchen, only a lot of dust and broken appliances, but the bathroom, however...

He frowned, staring at what it held consideringly. There was a massive tub, right in the center of the room. It was big enough for two grown guys as big as, say, him and Sam. And that was big.

There was no shower.

Dean knew Sam would want to clean himself, he always did after a hunt. And he himself did too. Like it or not, they'd have to take baths. And in a place like this, there was probably only enough hot water for one bath.

Plus, Sam was likely concussed, and Dean didn't want to leave him alone in case he passed out or something.

There was an obvious solution here.

Biting on his lip nervously, Dean returned to Sam who, sure enough, was getting clothes out of his duffle in preparation for bathing.

"Um, Sam-"

"I'll have first shower if you don't mind." Sam rocked forward alarmingly, but steadied himself before Dean had to come leaping to the rescue.

"It's not happening."

"Dean!"

"There's no shower, Sammy. Just a big ol' bathtub."

Sam shrugged and started forward again. "Fine, whatever. I take first bath."

Dean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Oh no you don't, kiddo. I'm not going to leave you by yourself for that long. You'll probably pass out and drown. And anyway, I don't want to take a freezing cold bath, and you know places like this only have a little, if any, hot water."

"What are you suggesting?" Sam frowned. He was a little slower than usual, doubtless from the several knocks to the head.

Dean led the way to the bathroom and nodded to the tub. Sam took in the size, then gaped at him.

"You're not saying...what, you want us to bathe together?"

"Yeah."

"Dean!"

"It's not a big deal, Sam. I changed your diapers and cleaned up your vomit. We're sharing a bed tonight and we used to bathe together. I don't see the problem."

"The last time we did this, I was six." Dean could see Sam give in. "Alright, fine, whatever. Just run the water, I'm cold."

"'Kay, bossy." Dean turned the hot water tap on as far as it would go, ignoring the cold completely. The place still had running water and, amazingly, it was pretty damn hot. "Mmm, that feels good." He turned the metal wheel to put down the stopper, and the tub began to fill.

Sam started to unbutton his shirt, but fumbled, looking a little dizzy. Concerned, Dean hurried over and pushed his hands away, beginning to undo it for him.

"I'm not a baby, Dean." Sam sounded exasperated yet fond, and he made no move to prevent Dean taking his shirt off of him.

Dean pushed the shirt off of Sam's shoulders. It hit the floor with a whoosh as he went for the hem of Sam's tee. They both shivered when one of his fingers got beneath the shirt and brushed Sam's stomach.

Pausing, he looked up at Sam's face as he deliberately slid his hand under the shirt, palm resting square on his belly.

Sam took a deep breath. muscles fluttering under Dean's hand. Neither of them said anything.

Dean slid his hand higher, over Sam's heart, feeling it beat nice and strong, reassuring himself that Sammy was alive, and okay. The horror and panic he'd felt, coming 'round that corner and seeing Sam crumpled at the bottom of the stairs...

A shudder racked his body. Sam brought a hand up and rested it on Dean's, the shirt between them.

Taking a deep breath and shaking himself, Dean withdrew his hand and pulled Sam's shirt up. His brother raised his arms up, letting him get the shirt off. Like a child.

The tee joined the overshirt on the floor, and without saying anything or being asked, Dean flicked open the button of Sam's jeans. He could hear Sam's breathing accelerate as he slowly pulled the zipper down.

Sam cleared his throat. "Dean, uh, my boots."

Damn, he'd forgotten those. Dropping to his knees, Dean immediately started unlacing them. Left first, then the right.

"Lift your foot, Sammy." Sam obliged, letting him pull off the boot and sock from his right foot, then his left, then work his jeans down and off. Finally Sam was in just his briefs.

Standing again, Dean looked Sam straight in the eye as he curled his fingers in the waisband, brushing the warm skin of his hip. He got those off too, gently so as not to...jostle anything.

Then Sam was naked, clothes puddled next to him, revealed in all his, well, glory. All Dean could think, looking at his brother, was that he was beautiful. Even with the bruises. (And man, were there a lot of those. Small purple ones and bigger blackish looking ones, on his chest and legs, and he had to be in pain.)

But he couldn't help noticing Sam's strong, toned chest and muscled thighs, his big, half hard dick. Fucking beautiful, was his Sammy.

"Go ahead and get in," Dean said, motioning to the tub. His voice was kind of husky; he hoped Sam didn't notice.

Sam nodded and turned, and fuck, the back of him was every bit as gorgeous as the front. His back and his ass, goddamn, his ass.

Eyes widening as he realized what he was thinking, Dean hurried to strip off his own clothes, scrambling over to the tub, then stopped, wondering how exactly it was going to work.

Sam was crouched awkwardly in the middle of the tub, waiting for him.

Decision made, Dean climbed in and scooted until his back was at one end of the tub. He parted his legs and waved at the vee of space left open. "C'mere, Sam."

To his surprise, Sam didn't give him an incredulous look, or question whether he was serious. He simply moved until his back was pressed against Dean's chest, the outside of his thighs up against the inside of Dean's.

"This okay?"

Sam hummed in agreement and let his head fall backwards against Dean's chest. "You gonna wash my hair, or what?"

Dean laughed, startled. He hadn't been planning on doing that, but now that he thought about it, it seemed just what he should do.

"Yeah. I am."

He wet Sam's hair and squeezed some shampoo out onto his palm, then gently massaged it into his brother's hair.

Sam sighed contentedly as he worked the soap into his scalp, snuggling further back into Dean.

Smiling indulgently, Dean rinsed the shampoo out carefully, trying not to get any in Sam's eyes.

Once his hair was clean, Sam made no move to do anything, though he did wiggle a little impatiently, like he wanted Dean to get on with the washing process.

Dean snorted and reached for the bar of soap. It was an interesting process, washing Sam's body. He started with what he could most easily reach, Sam's chest.

Sam's breathing hitched slightly when he ran the soap past his nipples. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Dean rubbed a finger over one of the small buds. Sam let out a tiny noise that was almost a moan, so Dean did it again, tugging lightly.

Sam made a louder noise, then a squeak as Dean pinched the other. "D-Dean!"

He got the soap down over Sam's stomach, abandoning his nipples, then his thighs, then paused. Sam was half hard.

Dean didn't know why he did it, but he did it. The hand not gripping the bar of soap wrapped itself around Sam's cock.

"Shit," Sam yelped in surprise, eyes flying open and head lifting up, then slamming back down against Dean's chest as he stroked from the base to the head once, slow and firm.

What was he doing? Breaking every single line that stood between the two of them and doing exactly what a brother should never do, that was what. But this...it felt right.

Dean was rubbing up and down Sam's dick, slow and unhurried strokes that were making Sam moan. It felt like they'd been heading for this for a while now. Unavoidable.

"I was so scared," he breathed into Sam's ear, scratching a nail over the slit. "When I- I saw you laying there, Sammy. I thought you were..." Dean can't finish the sentence, just jacked Sam a little faster, trying to tell him through that how horrified he'd been to see his baby brother on the ground after a damned poltergeist was finished tossing him around.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispered back. "It's, ah, alright. I'm fine, I'm here with you, I'm- like that, please, but harder!"

He tightened his grip and moved his hand faster. "Yeah? Like that? This how you like it, Sammy?"

"Unh, yeah. I like it just like this," Sam panted, bucking up into his grip.

Keeping the rhythm on Sam's dick, Dean let the bar of soap go. It drifted to the bottom of the tub, unnoticed. He brought his soap slick finger down and around, sliding between the cheeks of Sam's ass.

Sam stopped midmoan, which was an interesting achievement. "Dean? Dean, what-" He craned over his shoulder, trying to see Dean's hand.

Dean pushed in, just a bit. Only the tip of his finger.

"Fuck, _Dean!_ " Sam gasped, arching up and coming, pulsing hard jets of white, dirtying the water.

He blinked in amazement as Sam fell back against him. "Was that all it took? Just the end of my finger?" He pulled said finger back, and released Sam's cock too.

"Shut up, you took me by surprise," Sam grumbled, then turned his head to one side and managed to catch Dean's lips in a kiss.

Dean's lips were slack in shock, and Sam took shameless advantage of the fact, pushing his tongue inside and grabbing him by the back of the neck, pulling him in closer.

The angle was awkward as all hell, but it felt really good. And just...right. Like when he'd been jerking Sam off. Like this was supposed to happen.

"No freakouts," Sam said when they finally broke apart. "This- it feels like, like something we're supposed to do. Do you get that feeling?"

"Yeah," Dean admitted. He wasn't freaking out. Not yet, at any rate. Sam was alive and okay, if a bit battered, and they were together. "Let's get out."

"You didn't wash," Sam argued, even as he stood up.

"Water's getting cold. And anyway, I have a feeling I'm going to get dirty anyway."

Sam handed him a towel, smiling. An actual, genuine smile. It was wonderful and made Dean turn to mush. He was a girl, damn.

"Come on. I shouldn't sleep anyway, because of the possible concussion and all."

They left the room together, putting aside everything but each other for the next few hours.


End file.
